


Grotesque, Take Two:  Same Time, Next Year

by demented_queen



Category: The Walking Dead & Related Fandoms, The Walking Dead (TV)
Genre: Blood As Lube, Blood and Gore, Bottom Rick, Dark Humor, M/M, Rough Sex, Top Negan, cliched Southern humor, flippant mob boss Negan, scary gargoyle Rick, snarky human Rick
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-07-14
Updated: 2017-07-14
Packaged: 2018-12-02 04:34:40
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 5,766
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11501868
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/demented_queen/pseuds/demented_queen
Summary: Big time crime boss Negan decides to expand his empire down in Georgia so he takes a trip to Atlanta to suss out a guy calling himself the Governor.Things don't exactly go as planned, until he has the pleasure of meeting one Rick Grimes.Yes, this is a sequel to my Gargoyle!Rick story.  You don't have to read the first one in order to understand what's going on.  All you need to know is Rick, a stone gargoyle, turns human once a year.This story is COMPLETE.  Chapter 2 is artwork by my daughter.





	1. Same Time, Next Year

**Author's Note:**

> Once again, sorry about the delay on updating my other Regan fic, but RL, you know. I have this little story though as my propitiation.
> 
> First off, know that my human Rick here is based on late Season 2 Rick, because that's about the time I started noticing the lovely Mr. Grimes.
> 
> Also note, the gargoyle is NOT based on anything remotely Disney - like the cute singing ones from The Hunchback of Notre Dame fame or the almost human ones from the tv show. Think the movie Tales from the Darkside back in 1990. Yeah, gross.

 

 

The only good thing to come out of the situation Negan currently found himself in was at least he would have the gratification of not having to hear Simon say in his most pretentious voice, ‘told you so.’

Because this was the exact reason why Simon had told Negan _not_ to go into Atlanta, to not confront the Governor and his men.

For it was at this precise point in time that Negan found himself with his hands bound at the wrists to one tractor that would move in the direction of, well if he had to guess, East, while (and this was the part that disturbed him the most) his feet were bound quite securely to another tractor, one that he would presume would head West.

And that shit did not bode well for Negan.

He was to be pulled apart via John Deere in the middle of a cavernous warehouse by Boss Hogg (and no, the Governor did not take kindly to that nickname) and his henchmen (who also did not find it amusing when Negan asked if the rest of the cast of 'Hee Haw' would eventually join them).

“Now I ain’t gonna ask you again,” Philip Blake, or more commonly known as the Governor, sighed, “what did you plan on accomplishin' by coming down here to my fair city.”

“What can I say,” Negan responded in his most flippant voice. “Thought I’d try my hand at what you boys down South do when you wanna hook up so I thought I’d attend a family reunion.”

Negan’s mother had always told him his mouth would get him into trouble someday.

Just then one of the Governor’s henchmen shouted out in the crowd. “For fuck’s sake, can’t we just kill him now?! I hate when people typecast us like that.”

“Yeah, it’s demeaning and contemptible, being pigeonholed by that tiresome stereotype,” another one called out. If Negan remembered correctly, his name was Garguilio.

“We really hate that cliche,” the Governor hissed as he bent over and glared at the bound man before righting himself, his hands going to his hips with a knowing smirk on his smug face. “I know why you’re here. You’re trying to see if you could expand your little world south of the Mason-Dixon line. Thought you and the Saviors would take over my territory.”

“Wow, nothing gets by you,” Negan snorted. “You’re one of those guys that needs a calculator to add single digits, right?!”

“Funny man,” the Governor scoffed while rolling his eyes. “Martinez!” he shouted, whistling while making a hand motion. A loud rumble bounced off the walls as the first tractor started up.

Negan looked heavenward, wondering how the hell he was going to get out of this one because it looked like his punch card was about to get its final punch and although he was pretty sure that he had done a substantial number of atrocious things and had been the textbook definition of an all-round bad guy, he didn’t think getting ripped apart in two was the way he had envisioned going.

And as he was gazing upward, he noticed the bank of windows spread along the high ceiling of the warehouse that led to the roof. There, high above, looking down into the horrific scene that was about to unfold, was a man.

Negan knew that all of the Governor’s men were currently in the warehouse.

This man was definitely not one of them.

He then watched as the man made a few hand gestures that were a bit unclear.

He was either letting him know that he was going to aid him by going for help or that he wanted to know if there was a men’s restroom down there.

Negan hoped it was the former and although alerting the authorities, thereby having them ascend onto the warehouse, thereby opening a huge ass can of worms, it was still preferable to being torn apart.

And just as he was pondering all of the above, Negan watched as the man jumped through one of the open windows and landed surprisingly gracefully onto the warehouse floor.

Right in front of the Governor.

“Who the fuck are you?” Philip asked incredulously, shock and bewilderment apparent on his pompous face, as he stared at the man who had just appeared before him.

The man, his _savior_ , Negan snorted to himself as he realized the hilarity of the joke, then turned and faced him, waving happily at Negan.

“Hi, I’m Luke Skywalker and I’m here to rescue you,” the man proclaimed impassively, his deep Southern drawl drifting over Negan like warm peach pie and ice cold beer on a balmy summer night.

 _Oh God_ , Negan mused.

His only help seemed to be in the form of a delusional fan boy.

A _gorgeous_ delusional fanboy at that.

His face was framed by a trim beard, lovely cheekbones, a lush mouth and the most vibrantly blue eyes he had ever seen.

Too bad he was going to die a horrible death right alongside of him.

“I always wanted to say that,” the man drawled, a winsome smile on his handsome face.

“Whatever floats your boat man,” Negan replied off-handedly.

He would love to get the chance to find out what else floated his boat however the future didn’t look too good for either of them.

His mother, in her infinite wisdom, had also told him he always had the uncanny ability to think with his dick at the most inappropriate times.

Like now, thinking about hooking up with the hottie who had foolishly come to rescue him, when he should be thinking about how the hell he was going to get out of his current predicament.

Negan watched as his supposed liberator walked around the Governor and looked at each tractor in turn. “Now this is why us Southern boys get such a bad rap. Now I know this tractor pull ain’t a County Fair sanctioned event.”

“He with you?” the Governor asked as he regarded Negan.

“Regrettably, no,” Negan sighed.

“I can smell when somethang’s going down. And I’m _so_ hungry,” the man stated, tilting his head in a very intimidating way while staring down Philip.

“Hungry…what?! Who the fuck are you?” the Governor barked out. “Enough of this shit.”

“Name’s Rick,” the man replied. “And who’re you? Tony Orlando?” Rick snorted as he looked around the warehouse at the Governor’s men, “don’t tell me. They’re the Dawn. That your idea of tying a yellow ribbon ‘round the ole oak tree?” he said as he tilted his head toward Negan.

“You saying I’m the 'ole oak tree?'” Negan scoffed.

“Well, I’d sure like to climb you like one,” Rick smiled and winked at him as he started taking off his jacket.

“Getting cozy, are we?” Philip shot back.

“You could say that,” Rick said as he started unbuttoning his shirt.

Well, at least Negan would get a show before he kicked the bucket.

Although he had no idea how this was part of the 'rescue' plan.

Then again, Rick didn’t seem to be the slightest bit concerned with the dilemma he seemed to put himself into.

“Hey, why’s this guy going all Magic Mike on us?!” one of the Governor’s men called out.

“‘Cause I really like this shirt,” Rick said, but it seemed as if Negan wasn’t hearing correctly because his voice seemed to be getting deeper and more, well, he wasn’t exactly sure, but it sounded like they might have to call a priest who would have to sprinkle holy water on Rick while chanting the ‘power of Christ compels you.’

Rick’s voice had become somewhat _demonic_.

Negan watched as Rick turned back around and the beautiful blue eyes he had noticed before had turned completely black and his whole body seemed to shift while it started transforming into something he couldn’t exactly wrap his mind around.

“Fuck! There go my jeans!” Rick, or what used to be Rick, growled as the ripping of fabric was heard over the cacophony of flesh splitting and tearing and bones crunching as they changed shape and became distorted.

Rick had morphed from a man of modest height into an eight foot tall abomination, complete with an impressive wing span.

Its head was monstrous, with a large snout and deformed ears protruding from the top. What captivated Negan’s attention the most however was a large row of razor-sharp teeth, all on terrifying display as the creature sneered at everyone in the warehouse.

Negan knew what Rick was.

He was a gargoyle.

A freaking, fucking honest-to-God _gargoyle_.

Just as he was trying to wrap his mind around what was going down, three of the Governor’s men opened fire on Rick (and yes, despite the fact that he was now a demonic behemoth, he still felt he could only refer to him by his given name), riddling the creature with bullets.

When the unmistakable clicking noises came from their assault weapons signifying that they had spent all their ammo, Rick had smiled maliciously, took a deep breath in and then proceeded to gun down the shooters with their own lead.

There was a small part of Negan’s mind that conjured the phrase ‘Gargoyle Gatling Gun’ reminding him yet again, that his mother had always said he had a sick sense of humor.

As if sensing somehow that Negan had been thinking of him (and sincerely, who in the warehouse were thinking of anything _but_ Rick), the creature turned and regarded him.

Rick’s claws were long and also wicked sharp, as evidenced by the way he sliced through Negan’s bindings, freeing him from the tractors.

Well, Rick had said that he was there to rescue him.

From that point on it was total and complete pandemonium.

Rick had jumped from person to person, slicing and dicing through every single lackey in the Governor’s employ.

Negan had joined in the fray as well, having picked up his favorite weapon, a baseball bat encased in barbed wire, affectionately named Lucille, and started bashing in heads as well, while he steadily made his way to the Governor, who was screaming orders at his men, many of whom were trying to escape the warehouse.

But the doors had been barred and padlocked to ensure no one came in.

No one had ever thought that meant that no one could get _out_ as well.

It was a complete bloodbath, the carnage and bloodshed at a grand level even a huge mob boss like Negan felt slightly mortified by.

And just as he was about to approach the Governor, the boss who he had come to Atlanta with the intention of getting intel on so he could overthrow him from his throne in the criminal underground, the _only_ crime lord in history who had managed to get the jump on him, Rick, bless his fiendish heart, had blocked his way and grabbed Philip by the upper arms.

Before Negan could utter another word, the creature pulled both arms asunder, effectively tearing Atlanta’s former mob boss in two in an ironic twist of fate.

Blood sprayed everywhere (not that there hadn’t been plenty before), drenching the creature from its clawed feet to its horned head.

Rick turned slowly as he surveyed the warehouse, Negan doing so as well.

None of the Governor’s men were left.

It was now just the two of them.

And it was then when Negan noticed the creature eyeing him, only a scant few feet away.

If he wanted to make a run for it, he was doomed.

Negan watched as the beast licked its lips of the blood its face had been doused in and continued to contemplate him, its large, monstrous black eyes boring into him.

His heart was hammering hard in his chest as he wondered what his fate would be.

Negan looked on in horror and fascination as the beast suddenly rolled its eyes skyward and started to convulse, going through its metamorphosis once again, only this time in reverse.

The sickening sound of flesh and bone as it transfigured itself was so very loud in the eerie quiet of the warehouse that had now become a crimson-soaked tomb.

There stood Rick in his human form, naked from top to bottom, blood caressing almost every square inch of his body, tilting his head as he gazed hungrily at Negan while simultaneously licking those accursed lips.

Before Negan knew what was happening, Rick advanced on him quickly, throwing himself at him and knocking him to the cold warehouse floor.

Only when he managed to get his bearings did he realize that Rick wasn’t exactly attacking him in a violent nature but in a _carnal_ one.

Rick, simply put, was horny.

And Negan was rather pleased with this sudden turn of events.

Hungry kisses turned into nipping and biting along Negan’s neck and shoulders as Rick tore his jacket from him, the crime boss thankful that the other man’s teeth were not the knife-like incisors from before.

Hands were everywhere, Rick forcibly ripping his shirt off his body while Negan managed to get his own pants and boxers off himself.

And there they both lay, completely naked and covered in blood, as Rick continued to assault him with his hands and lips, rolling around together until the other man managed to get a hold of Negan’s cock, liberally spreading blood around it.

Negan’s mind had gone quickly from merely a craving for the other man lost in his sexual fervor to one of unhinged carnality as Rick lined himself up with his cock and sunk down savagely, impaling himself completely. Not even a second passed as Rick started moving himself up and down on Negan’s cock, riding him depravedly, his blatant wantonness on full display as his obscene moans echoed throughout the warehouse.

At least Negan thought they were Rick’s until he realized in his own lustful haze that they were his moans as well.

Rick continued to ride him, until Negan managed to best him and turn him over, Rick’s back hitting the concrete floor as Negan continued to ferociously thrust deep within him.

Negan knew he was repeatedly hitting Rick’s prostate as his guardian angel’s head rolled from side to side on the floor in abandon, his eyes becoming unfocused and dazed, his body shuddering as he knew Rick was coming to completion.

And just like that, Rick came, closing his eyes as one final cry issued from his trembling lips, a howl of pleasure, his body shaking with small tremors.

Rick’s walls clenched around Negan’s member and he too howled as he released into Rick, who was still convulsing through his orgasm as his body continued to draw Negan further in, securing the two men together in what seemed like an infinite moment in time.

Of course, both men were reminded that the moment in fact, was most definitely _finite,_ as Rick regarded Negan to some extent in a bashful manner, stammering his apologies as he made to get off of a stunned Negan.

“Seriously sweetheart, you got nothing to be sorry for,” Negan chuckled, amused by Rick’s sudden awkwardness and the fact that he was still drained from the amazing sexual romp they had just indulged in. “So, I think introductions are in order. I’m Negan and thanks for you know,” he continued as he waved in the general direction of what used to be the Governor.

“Oh yeah,” Rick said as he looked over in the same direction as he snickered. “You mean Boss Hogg?”

“That’s what I called him!” Negan exclaimed in surprise while chuckling, the other man joining in as well.

“Gotta go pick up my clothes. I gotta get out of here, sun’s coming up,” Rick sighed as he pointed around the warehouse.

Negan watched as Rick stood up while casting his gaze around all the dead bodies. He bent over one said body and removed the shirt off the corpse. “This looks clean enough,” Rick commented as he started to wipe the blood from his body.

As Negan got dressed himself, he continued to observe Rick as he peered over the bodies of the men he had just slaughtered.

“I hate it when I don’t get my jeans off in time,” Rick grumbled as he continued to peruse the bodies as if looking for something. “You see any clean jeans ‘bout my size?”

“Dude without the head,” Negan said, pointing to one of Rick’s kills by one of the tractors.

“Hey thanks. Good eye,” Rick beamed as he made his way over to the man and bent over him.

“So aren’t you going to, you know, _eat_ any of these guys?” Negan asked, curiosity finally getting the better of him. “‘Cause I gotta ask. Do humans really taste like chicken?”

“Why do they always ask that?” Rick huffed in exasperation as he continued to strip the jeans off the corpse. “Do you know how long its been since I had chicken? Can’t even remember what it tastes like. I mean, do I really look like the kinda guy that goes down to the Colonel’s and buys a bucket of chicken?!”

“You look like the kinda guy that would eat the Colonel,” Negan stated matter-of-factly.

“What?! No!” Rick scoffed as he held the pair of jeans up to his waist. He had a smug smile on his face as he started to put the article of clothing on.

“So you don’t actually eat your…”

“No! God, gross,” Rick huffed as he made a face, bouncing on one foot while putting the other leg into the jeans. “I’m not a fucking cannibal. By the way, a couple years back I was the one who took out that serial killer, Gavin…um…Gareth! That was his fucking name. Now he was a sick fuck. And a cannibal to boot. You’re welcome.”

Negan continued to watch as Rick seemed content in his new pair of jeans. “Oh, these are perfect. Hope Gabe washes ‘em so I can wear ‘em next year.”

“Then when you said you were hungry…,” Negan started.

“Now where did I put my shirt,” Rick muttered as he took another look around.

“It landed over on that tractor,” Negan pointed out.

“Seriously, if 'Where’s Waldo' were an Olympic event, you’d take home the Gold. Bingo!” Rick smiled triumphantly as he grabbed his shirt, then held it up in the air as if it was that Gold medal he had just been talking about. He aired out the shirt a few times. “I don’t actually eat people. When I say I’m hungry…it’s more of a conceptual thing. Like a vampire needs blood and a werewolf needs human flesh to eat. But I don’t need those physical thangs to survive.”

Negan wanted to ask Rick if vampires and werewolves _actually_ existed but decided to tackle one myth at a time.

“I just thrive off of chaos, carnage, destruction, murder. Like you,” Rick smiled.

“Conceptual, huh?” Negan pondered as he watched Rick pull the shirt onto his torso. “So vampires and werewolves, if they existed, are like math. Simple, with a straightforward answer each and every time. But you. You’re more like…calculus, with its conceptual and...analytical understanding.”

“Yeah, you got it!” Rick beamed before furrowing his brows. “What’s calculus?”

Oh Negan was most definitely not the man to have to explain that hornet’s nest.

Besides, it was time for him to address the elephant in the room.

The one that sprouted wings and took out the Governor and all of his men.

“So…you’re a…,” Negan stumbled as he tried to mouth the word, “gargoyle.”

It was much harder than it seemed.

“Yeah, ain’t that a hoot?” Rick drawled tiredly.

“I think ‘a hoot’ is a bit of an understatement,” Negan chuckled.

“Yeah well,” Rick shrugged as he buttoned up the last bit of his shirt.

“Were you born this way?” Negan asked, suddenly finding himself very curious about Rick’s back story.

“No. I was cursed, by a witch. On the Pope’s orders. Fucker,” Rick grumbled as he pulled on a boot.

“The _Pope_ had you cursed?” Negan challenged incredulously. “As in _the_ Pope, the leader of the Catholic Church?!”

“Is there other kinds of Popes? God, I hope not,” Rick muttered before addressing Negan. “Yes _the_ Pope, the Big Kahuna, the Grand Poobah. Oh! And it weren’t just me. There were a few of us.”

“So…there’re more of you?” Negan sputtered.

It was a wonder all of civilization hadn’t been brought down by now with other creatures like Rick roaming around.

“I guess, somewhere. Probably back home. I was the only one that got moved here,” Rick said as he spread his arms out to the sides. “Here in lovely metropolitan Atlanta. Why it couldnt’ve been New York, I dunno. Maybe I wouldna picked up this stupid Southern accent…”

“Where are you from originally?” Negan asked quickly.

The Southern drawl had Negan convinced he had been raised in the deep South but now he wasn’t so sure.

“Little village in England,” Rick sighed as he pulled on the other boot.

“The last time where I presume you had chicken,” Negan smirked.

“Yes, where I last had chicken,” Rick groaned in annoyance. “I was born Richard Grimmswald. Shortened it to Rick Grimes for the Americas.”

The Americas?

Exactly how _old_ was Rick?

“When was it precisely you and your little friends became cursed?” Negan queried.

“It was back in the Crusades,” Rick shrugged as he pulled his jacket on.

“Wait, the _actual_ Crusades?! The _Crusade's_ crusades,” Negan asked in disbelief.

“No, the fake Crusades back in the 1970’s right before the Disco Era,” Rick scoffed. “Yes the fucking Crusades Are you just gonna repeat everything I say? I only got a limited time.”

“What? You turn into a pumpkin?” Negan snickered.

“Why do they always say pumpkin?” Rick sighed as he waved his hand. “And if by pumpkin you mean a stone gargoyle, then yes. And its at sunrise so I need to get back home, like now.”

“And home is…?” Negan prodded.

“St Partrick’s Cathedral,” Rick stated. “You’ve probably seen me up there. But…you’re not from around here, right?”

“Okay back up,” Negan said, hoping to get back to Rick’s origins. “Why were you cursed by the Pope’s witch? Seriously, the Pope, _the Pope_ , had a motherfucking witch.”

Rick groaned in resignation. “Fine! ’S not like I have anywhere important to be. And in case you didn’t catch on, that was sarcasm…”

“You’re pretty snarky for a millennia-old gargoyle,” Negan smirked.

“You would be too…never mind,” Rick said as he shook his head. “So you wanna know why that fucker had us cursed? Because me and the other guys did a real fucking spectacular job during the Crusades. Did you know I was once known as Richard the Bloody?”

“I wonder how they ever came up with that name?” Negan smiled as he took in the state of Rick’s face, traces of blood in his hair and across his face.

“Yeah, remember, _not_ sarcasm-challenged here,” Rick drawled. “Right. But the Pope was all ‘sins against humanity. Blah blah blah.’ Can you believe the nerve of that fucker?! We were just fightin’ the war he and Richard the Lionhearted wanted to fight and this is how the asshole repaid us! Cursed us for all fucking eternity! Turned us into fucking gargoyles. _Gargoyles_!” Rick lamented as he threw his hands up in the air. “After we did whatever we had to do to win their stupid war! You know, once this Moor managed to disarm my sword from me and there I stood, without my bloody sword…”

“Did you…did you just say ‘bloody?!’” Negan sputtered. “Oh my God. You just swore in the Queen’s English. That is some funny shit right there.”

“I wasn’t…” Rick groaned. “I just killed a whole fuck load of people. My sword was pretty fucking bloody.”

“So this _Moor_ ,” Negan chuckled. “Had your sword…so what did’ya do next?”

“I ripped out his throat with my teeth,” Rick stated proudly. “Just sunk my teeth in and let her rip.”

“Whoa hardcore,” Negan whistled as he looked at his new acquaintance with a bit more reverence. “So, did he taste like chicken?”

“Don’t start that again,” Rick sighed before continuing from where he left off. “But yeah, bet you’re fucking ass I was hardcore. So we were turned into gargoyles and I was thinking, ‘okay this ain’t the worst. Now we really are badasses.’ But oh no. The humiliation didn’t stop there. Then it was decreed that we would sit on the top of the church as pure stone, only to come back to life once every year to wreak as much havoc as we bloody well wanted. Fucking tool for the fucking Church is all I ever was and will be.”

“A ha!” Negan barked as he pointed to Rick. “You just used ‘bloody’ as a fucking swear word. You really are English. You’re swearing as if you’re back in merry ole’ England, even with that southern drawl.”

“It comes up every once in a while,” Rick shrugged.

“How’d you end up here? In _the Americas_?” Negan snickered at the archaic term.

“They moved me here after the burning of Atlanta, after the Civil War, to sit on top of the newly built cathedral,” Rick said.

Negan suddenly remembered something Rick had stated.

“You said you’re a tool for the Catholic Church,” Negan started.

“Oh God, you’re gonna make a joke ‘bout me being a ‘tool,’” Rick sighed. “Or say something about my tool or ‘bout my penis…”

“Actually I wasn’t and in case you’ve forgotten, I’ve seen your _tool_ ,” Negan mocked before clearing his throat and continuing despite Rick’s groaning. “So what do you mean by you being a tool?”

“Gargoyles have always sat at the top of churches, high up in the sky, to remind people from as long as I can remember about the evils in the world. To remind people why you should never stray from the path the Church laid out for you. You know, to caution people that evil exists and you should turn to God,” Rick said as he rolled his eyes while making a hand motion up and down as if he were jerking himself off.

“Did it work back then?” Negan asked, fascinated at the lengths religion went to at times to promote their numbers.

“I don’t know. Maybe. It was a simpler time. You guys have the internet now. Don’t need me no more,” Rick scoffed. “Then again, the Church is just fine with me and my buddies going ‘round, causing trouble and chaos. You know?”

“Well Rick, I gotta say, I did not think my night would end up with me getting a history lesson in the fucked up ways of the Catholic Church,” Negan scoffed.

“Hey, you learned something new ‘bout religious history, your rival got taken down allowing you to take over Atlanta, you didn’t die and you got laid,” Rick pointed out. “I’d say this was a pretty good day for you.”

“I think you’re right,” Negan smiled before shifting back to what Rick had mentioned. “Do the priests at St. Patrick’s know about you?”

“Not all of ‘em. There’s one priest there who leaves clothes out for me once a year. He comes by and talks to me on the roof, next to my steeple, every goddamned day,” Rick recounted. “Talks to me all the fucking time. He even confesses his sins to me every so often. Man, he is into some _freaky_ shit. What’s fleching?”

“We should…um…go,” Negan said while clearing his throat and looking away.

“Well its about fucking time,” Rick smiled as he got up, watching Negan as he picked Lucille up.

They made their way out of the factory and down to Negan’s motorcycle.

“Hey I was with a guy who had one of these,” Rick recalled rather fondly.

“Oh yeah?” Negan said, a leering smile on his lips.

“His name was Daryl,” Rick said.

“Where’s he now? Did you eat him?” Negan asked, loving the way he could tease Rick so easily.

Negan’s mother had always said he had to be careful of the people he teased and joked with.

He suspected she would have added, had she had the foresight, ‘especially not the man who could turn into a savage beast at will.’

Then again, with the way Negan’s life had turned out, he always took what she said with a grain of salt.

“I don’t eat people, ‘cept maybe by accident,” Rick huffed in exasperation. “Look, he just never liked my idea of _fun_ so we went our separate ways. He’s fine and lives with his brother.”

Good.

Negan hated ex-boyfriends.

Rick climbed on the back of the motorcycle behind Negan, grabbing him around his waist, Negan smiling widely as he clung to him. “You just love getting your arms around me, doncha sweetheart?”

“You better hurry before I turn back into a three ton statue and you gotta explain to the Atlanda PD why you have one of the major point of interests on the back of your bike.”

That _would_ be a bitch to explain.

They arrived back at St. Patrick’s in record time, Rick hopping off the back of the bike and looking up into the sky anxiously.

“Shit, not much time,” Rick groused as they both spied the imminent sunrise, the looming presence of its glow in the sky no longer to be ignored. “I gotta get up to the roof now!”

Both men raced up the stairs, making their way to the highest part of the roof where the steeple that Rick perched himself on for the rest of the year could be reached.

“Richard!” a man admonished, making both Rick and Negan turn around abruptly. “This was cutting it rather close, wasn’t it?!”

“Holy crap! Where the hell did you come from?” a startled Negan blurted out as he looked at the priest before him. “You are creepy as shit sneaking up on me wearing that collar with that freaky ass smile.”

“Negan, Father Gabriel. Gabe, meet Negan,” Rick gave as way of introductions, looking into the horizon.

“This is who you choose to spend your short time with Richard? Really?!” Father Gabriel berated as he stared back at Negan disdainfully.

“Hey, I’m an upstanding kinda guy,” Negan defended as he stared back at the robed man.

“I’m sure you’re a pillar of society,” Gabriel sighed.

“Can it both of you,” Rick growled as he started to peel off his shirt.

Oh right.

Rick would have to get naked again.

Before Rick could start in on his jeans, Negan grabbed the shorter man by the shoulders and planted a passionate kiss on his lips, tasting them for the last time or, well, for the rest of the year.

When they broke the kiss, Rick gazed back at Negan and smiled. “Thanks for that. I’d give you my number but, you know, _gargoyle_.”

And with that, Rick finished undressing, before the unmistakeable sounds of crunching bones and the ripping of flesh could be heard. The last thing that happened was the unfurling of the wings behind him, concluding with the full extent of his impressive wingspan as they flapped and carried him up onto the steeple above them.

Negan’s gaze found him beholding the majestic creature perched on its home for the next year, high in the sky.

And just as the rays of the sun were about to ascend on Rick, cruelly entombing him, Negan had to get the last word in.

“Hey Rick! Same time, next year!” Negan shouted.

Rick tilted his head, the same tilt that had endeared him to Negan and the full force of the morning sunrise swept over him, turning his new acquaintance into that accursed stone.

A high pitched screech emerged from Father Gabriel, the man holding his hands in front of his mouth while looking at Rick completely aghast.

“What were you thinking?!” Gabriel wailed. “There are people that look at that statue _every day_! Somebody’s going to notice the tilt of his head.”

“Call it a miracle or some shit,” Negan chuckled. “Tell ‘em their Lord and _Savior_ did it. You would appreciate the irony of that statement if you knew who I was.”

Father Gabriel took another fond look up at Rick. “He is glorious, isn’t he?”

Great.

A gargoyle fanboy.

“Yeah. He’s pretty awesome,” Negan smirked.

Although he wasn’t thinking about the creature, the form Rick was cursed to bear.

Negan was just thinking about the man.

He was only thinking about _Rick_.

“I find myself coming up here, talking to him every now and then. He’s been my real confessor,” the priest smiled as he turned on his heels and made his way back down the stairs, Negan clearing his throat awkwardly before following the priest’s descent to the ground floor.

As he got back down to the street, Negan’s mind was already busy coming up with ideas and plans.

Simon had talked about an underground, the one different from the organized crime syndicate, the one only whispered about in back alleys amongst people who claimed none of it could possibly be real.

But Negan had the proof that the supernatural was very real and a tangible thing in the form of Rick.

Once he got back to his home turf, he would enlist the help of Simon and some of the others that knew of these kinds of dealings.

Magic.

Witches.

Curses.

And if someone were to produce a bible to him in that moment, he would swear on it, right there in front of St Patrick’s and God himself, that he would make it his life’s mission to find a witch that could break the curse and free Rick from his imprisonment.

Because although the gargoyle, the creature, was magnificent and breathtaking and _glorious_ , it was nothing compared to the man Negan had had the good fortune of meeting earlier.

Rick was far more fascinating and no doubt just as fearsome and formidable as the creature itself.

Rick, simply put, was something else.

Negan would make sure that Rick was removed from that pedestal high in the sky, being used as a tool for the Catholic Church, and relocated to where he should be.

Right by Negan’s side.

With that, he placed his sunglasses over his eyes, started his bike and made his way out of Atlanta.

He had a lot to do.

 


	2. Art work for my story

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So I told my lovely daughter what I was writing and she came up with this. This is of course not what gargoyle Rick looks like, but it was still adorable and I wanted to include it.
> 
> He reminds me of a monkey!Rick!gargoyle.
> 
> However she DID get the head tilt. ;P

[](http://s82.photobucket.com/user/higimoto/media/gargoil%20rick.png.html)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Rowan loves getting comments on her work so leave some love. :)

**Author's Note:**

> Blame it all on my 12 years of Parochial school education. ;P
> 
> About the Colonel: that's just what we call the franchise Kentucky Fried Chicken - the Colonel's.
> 
> I want to take a moment to give a big THANK YOU to pharmtechgirl for reading over this story to make sure it was okay. 
> 
> Please comment as I love to hear what you think. I promise I'll respond back in a more timely manner this time.
> 
> Also check out the art work my daughter did for this story in the next 'chapter.'


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